


Whatever its name

by AkiraRedtiger



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraRedtiger/pseuds/AkiraRedtiger
Summary: This is a story about strange names, about truth and lies, about venomous snakes, and about a trickster god trapped in an annoying place, which neither he nor the human he met knows how to call. /Infinity War Spoiler Alert/





	1. No plan at all

He had no plan at all. He really thought that this should have been the end.

  
He clearly remembered a hand squeezing his throat, then the suffocation, the pain, some distant noises, flashes of colour, the cold and fading away. Next, he was here. Because this needed to be somewhere, right?

  
Better not be Valhalla, though. It was quite empty, for a heaven. He felt pretty much not dead, that is to say, alive, but obviously, he could not be sure.  
He had given up any hope of victory when he had decided to face Thanos. He had just foolishly hoped that, at least, his desperate attempt would give his brother a chance to get out alive. But all he had seen was Thor’s powerless look, all he had done was strengthening the Mad Titan by giving him the Tesseract, and all he had left was a sentence repeating over and over in his head.

  
_You really are the worst, brother._

  
He was. He even was the worst at finding his way after death. Seriously.

  
Maybe this was Hell. That made much more sense. After everything he had done, how could he hope to enter Valhalla? This was a place for heroes, not for tricksters. Or perhaps Valhalla was only destined to Asgardians. And he was not Asgardian.

  
It was hard to focus on his last memories. First, he was strangled. Second, he saw some blue and purple explosions all around him. Third, he passed out. Oh, and there was the cold too.

  
A real, deep cold. Yes, cold was the last thing he felt before he opened his eyes. He was becoming more and more certain not to be dead. What had happened to him? Maybe this was the Tesseract? Was it Thanos who had intentionally sent him here? Or was it Heimdall, not dead either, who had used the Bifrost?

  
The fact was, he had no idea about where he was, how he got there, or what he could do. Loki of Asgard had no plan at all.


	2. The White Prison

He could not see anything, hear anything, feel anything. Whiteness and silence. The void of nothingness. So, was it one of the ultimate powers of the Tesseract, he wondered, to open gates _in-between_ universes? He could not go in nor go out, he was stuck in the door frame to another dimension. Ironically, he recalled the threat of the Other.

“You will long for something as sweet as pain”.

Clearly, this was not what he had in mind at that time, and yet it was true. Absolute pain was far better than absolute nothing because pain was at least still a thing. And now, he was surrounded by nothing.

“No!” He suddenly shouted.

His voice was pure anger. How could he be lost, not in universes, but amid them? He had already fallen from the Bifrost, had seen worlds of marvel and horror, and what kept him alive during those years of wandering was his mind. His powerful mind, his greatest ally, the source of his magic. And now that his mind was as trapped as his body, there was not anything to focus on.

He shouted again, and again, screams of rage. Still being able to hear his own voice reassured him a little. The same thoughts were roaming in his head: Thor, is he alive, did he escape, of course he is alive, how could _he_ escape now, get out of this place, concentrate on something, was he only still alive, was it his fate, eternal suffering…

“Damn you all!!” He roared.

He fell on his knees. He could not feel any physical exhaustion but he was tired. What happened to him? Did he even had a chance to get out of here? Then, little by little, he calmed down. He urged himself to take slow, deep breaths. Stillness. Control. His body gradually relaxed. Now, he had to find a way to see if his magic was still effective.

What followed was a succession of attempts, failures, other attempts, things that looked like successes but clearly were not, and more attempts. The most frustrating thing of all was that his magic was still here, it was part of him, he could feel it, but he could not reach it. Countless times he thought of a new way to cast a spell in or out of this empty place, countless times he only stumbled across an echo of himself, nothing more. But he did not give up. He could not give up!

Most of the time, after an umpteenth try, he would briefly laugh or grind his teeth out of frustration, but he immediately came back to his primary focus. Any kind of creation, be it material or psychic, did not seem to be possible here. Establishing contact with anyone he knew was out of reach as well.

He waited. And waited. He increasingly felt a burning sensation in his head. Madness, he knew, for this place was a torture of his soul, not of his body. He could not feel pain, nor tiredness, nor hunger, and this would ultimately drive him crazy. But he could not surrender! Not like this! An eternity of insanity? Never!

“I cannot yield…” He whispered to himself.

He wanted to sleep, to put his mind at rest, even for a few seconds, but he could not. He obviously had something in him that could create the way out, he just did not know it yet…

Nevertheless, doubt was pernicious. Doubt disturbed his concentration, murmuring “how long has it been since you arrived?” and “are you sure you are still alive?”, sparkling fear, not brief but lasting, gut-wrenching fear, which rooted in every corner of his mind. He was powerless. And now, afraid.

At first, he fought it with all his might. Gradually, he felt his mental barriers breaking. It could be true, after all… O Chaos, O Pain and Disorder, how delightful they appeared compared to this immense void! He had nothing to cling to. He was truly alone.

Enough of this. He tried to silence the unbearable noise in his mind, unconsciously putting his hands on his head. He did not move for a long time. That did not matter, he had stopped trying to measure time way before. And suddenly, he heard a voice.

“Who are you?”

 

* * *

 

She clearly saw him. From now on, it was undeniable, someone else could access Whatever-its-name.

It was white. White and empty. Very few things existed. Since her presence here was purely mental and not physical, she couldn’t tell if there was matter, like oxygen atoms. Or gravity. Or even light.

And yet, she could see him. He was hunched, his hands over his head. He has long hair, she thought. They masked the parts of his face that were not hidden by his hands (long hands as well) thus she had no idea of what he looked like. She came closer.

He was breathing heavily. His clothes seemed well-fashioned but they were torn at many places. He had been fighting someone. Or something. Which was maybe chasing him…

He was in pain. How long since he had arrived here, she couldn’t tell, mostly because time did not exist here. Whatever-its-name was uncanny, terrifying, and yet she had found a peace she had never felt before.

“Who are you?” She asked.

The effect was immediate. He leaped on his feet at an incredible speed, his eyes wide open. They were green. His face was pale and bruised. He looked incredibly tired and ferocious. Like a desperate beast ready to kill before being killed. Like a Naja snake…

“ _How_ did you end up here?” She asked again, genuinely curious.

She was not afraid. She had no reason to be. But she remained cautious. She watched every single movement he made, listened to each flickering of his breath, ready to counter any attack. And yet, she was craving answers, from the first living being she was able to talk to in this place.

“How did _you_ end up here?” He suddenly replicated “Did _he_ send you? What for? Tell me!!”

Not quite what she expected. He was surprised, afraid and angry, a dangerous combination that needed counterbalance. She was going to give him some answers. The discussion would surely be long. She did not mind.

 


End file.
